


This Water Will Heal You

by MrsMollyH



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Austin - Freeform, Bottom Jensen, Break from Filming, Depression, Dirty Talk, Filming, Filming Break, Kayaking, M/M, Physical Activity, References to Depression, Texas, Top Jared, Wife Mention, outdoors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-08
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2019-01-30 21:24:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12661698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsMollyH/pseuds/MrsMollyH
Summary: When filming draws to a close, Jensen can feel himself begin to lose Jared to the depths of his depression again. He must find out a way to help lift Jared back up. Jensen hopes that being home in Texas and doing the things they love most might help, in some small way.





	This Water Will Heal You

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** Set in the existing universe, wives mentioned but not characters in the story, plotty smut.  
>  **Art:** Based on the beautiful art by incredible milly_gal, which can be found [here.](https://milly-gal.livejournal.com/1881565.html) I have never worked with someone who was so kind, nurturing and inspiring. Thank you!  
>  **Beta:** jerzcaligrl, who beta’ed this piece—my first new writing in almost 2 years—and took wonderful care of it. Thank you! Although she will probably want to punch me in the nose for a couple of the stylistic choices I made.
> 
>  

Sometimes the days just start to get to him. Little things get under Jared’s skin and dig at him, little irritations that feel like they grow and grow until he is snappish and tired. That’s when he knows the filming schedule is nearly over; when he constantly feels like he isn’t getting enough sleep, when he feels in his bones like he has been away from the dust and dirt of Austin and the lake too long. He knows the time is coming when he finally snaps at Jensen over a missed take, something he does so rarely that he can see the surprise bloom in Jensen’s face when it happens.

“Give me a minute, y’all,” Jared finally asks, carding his fingers through his hair in frustration, motioning to Bob Singer, who gives him the okay to step off set. Jensen cocks his head almost imperceptibly in his direction, but lets him go. Jensen knows what this means, but it keeps arriving sooner and sooner as the seasons pass.

Jensen watches Jared slink off set, his almost six-and-a-half foot frame rounded at the shoulders, hazel eyes to the floor. His hair is tousled from where his hands had wrestled through it at the end of the take. Jensen lets him go alone a minute, lets him collect himself. He has seen the stress seeping into Jared’s bones. He has watched the tension rise in his shoulders, rounding them, making Jared seem smaller, more fragile. This isn’t the first time he has watched this happen. Seeing it again makes him nervous. 

Two years ago, he had watched Jared all but flee the cons they had planned for that summer, taking refuge at home and hiding away. While Jensen had been at the microphone, listening to fans, singing, taking questions, Jared had been at home, healing and hiding. While Jensen had curtains at his back, Jared had had his back against the wall. Jensen had rallied the troops to make the conventions a victory, but he had felt powerless to help the man he cared so much for. He understood why Jared had to go home then, but this episode today kicked up his fears. This was starting to look like the same path again. As he waits, Jensen watches Jared sigh, pull his shoulders back. He raises his hand to Bob, who nods to him, then makes his way over to Jared, gently placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. 

“We’re almost done, man. Last episode of the season. Then we can go home,” Jensen says, searching Jared’s face and hoping he will meet his eyes. Jared nods, just the merest hint of a motion, and lifts his head, looks Jensen in the eye. Jensen can see pain there, the exhaustion. He also sees a few things he doesn’t want to name. Jensen turns to go back to set, giving Jared the space to work through his frustrations. Jensen knows he will rejoin him when he is ready.

When Jared returned to set, it only took two more takes to finish the scene. Jared was almost the person Jensen had always known. Almost. Just close enough to make Jensen uneasy.

—  


Once filming had wrapped nearly a week later, Jared and Jensen flew back to Austin a day apart; Jared flew back on a late flight on Tuesday, Jensen the following afternoon on Wednesday. Aside from the usual photos being taken as they each made their way through the Vancouver airport, the whole affair was quiet for each of them. Jensen allowed Jared three days of quiet solace with his family before he shot him a text. Short, sweet: “You doing okay? Lake tomorrow?” When he hadn’t gotten a response in 24 hours, he decided it was time to take matters into his own hands. After he pulled Danneel aside and had her take Genevieve out on the town, Jensen made his way over to the Padalecki home on his own.

He lets himself in with the key Jared and Gen had given him. The house is quieter than he would have liked. Most days, he would walk in and music would be playing in the house. Jared, Gen, or one of the kiddos would be talking, laughing. Today there is nothing. The house is quiet as old bones. Jensen calls out for Jared but gets no response. He makes his way toward the master bedroom, as he heard nothing from the kitchen, the living room, his office. He opens the door gently and ducks his head in.

“Jared?” He asks softly. He is met by a grumble and the rustling of covers. “Jared, are you okay? It’s almost noon, man.” Another grumble, less force behind it this time. Jensen makes his way into the room, treading lightly. He walks over to Jared’s side of the bed, where he sees Jared curled under the duvet, head covered.

“I thought we could go out on the lake today. I have the kayaks set up. Come on,” Jensen puts his hand approximately where Jared’s broad shoulder should be under the mass of bedclothes. Reluctantly, Jared pulls his head out from under the covers. His eyes are puffy and tired and red, bloodshot marbles set deep in the hard planes of Jared’s face.

“I think being outside will be good for you. It’s a beautiful day. Just work with me here. I know you don’t want to, but just give me a chance, okay?” Jensen doesn’t like the plaintive edge in his voice, doesn’t like the low simmer of desperation that can be heard just under the surface; he hopes Jared can’t hear it.

With a sigh that carries the weight of a sleepless night and an exhausted day, Jared pulls the covers off and puts his feet on the floor. He looked fragile to Jensen, sitting there surrounded by fabric. Jensen wants to touch him, but is almost afraid that if he did, Jared might shatter in front of him. Jared gets on his feet, and Jensen feels a small bloom of hope rise in his chest, and although he wants to kill it where it comes, he doesn’t.

“Go get ready, man, I’ll be out by the dock, alright?” Jensen watches as Jared nods and makes his way toward the closet where he has his swim trunks folded. Jensen turns and leaves the room to give Jared a little space, pleased with the progress they’re making, small though it may be. He walks through the living room into the kitchen, finally opening the door toward the back yard. Everything is verdant and beautiful, the grass a lush carpet beneath his feet once he walks down the back steps. The sky is bright and blue, flawless as a marble, and the sun is a bright light baking the earth below it. The day couldn’t be more perfect to be out on the lake. Jensen kicks off his Converse and makes his way barefoot down to the dock, feeling the sun-baked wood heat the soles of his feet, the heat not quite enough to burn, not yet uncomfortable. When the sun rises high in the Texas sky a few hours from now, it will be too warm to walk on the dock without wet feet or shoes.

Jensen knows he can’t fix Jared’s depression. But if he can make a few hours or a few days better, it feels like some small treasure to him, something to be cherished. He leans over and preps the kayaks and oars for use, busying himself with the little details to get his mind off the low burn of anxiety about the man he cares so much about. The monotony, doing this that they have done dozens upon dozens of times together, it helps distract him. The sun-warmed red plastic of Jared’s kayak is rough and familiar under his hands, the black rubber of the oars; Jensen knows these things. They are the same every time he comes to the dock. No matter the struggles Jared might be going through, no matter how bad a day the kids or Danneel may have had, no matter how much stress he carries in his shoulders as he comes to the dock, when he feels these things beneath his hands, he is home. There is only one other place he feels this way.

  
—  


Jared is walking down the dock toward him, finally. His shoulders are still rounded, making him look almost wounded, but his head is up, he’s looking at Jensen, and that’s progress. Jensen gives himself some small permission to admire Jared, the broad cut of his shoulders, the narrow slope of his waist that gives way to an equally narrow set of hips. He looks long and lean in his swim trunks, bronze skin bared.

“You ready, man?” Jensen says with a smile that Jared actually returns, nodding briefly. It’s the first time he’s seen Jared smile in almost a week. He realizes how much he had missed that gesture when he sees it. It warms him, gives him a cautious bit of hope that he hopes will live out the day.

Jared slides into his kayak and Jensen does the same, grabbing oars and pushing away from the dock. The sun is a bright spot on the rippling water, broken by the splashes of their oars and the scuttling of fish beneath the surface. Jensen catches Jared smiling again. This man lives for the outdoors. Jensen knows Jared finds freedom here, in the endless roll of the water, the breeze blowing between the trees, the birds singing within them. There are no expectations here, only enjoyment. It’s peaceful.

They take the same route they always do, an easy, lazy loop around that they know like the backs of their hands. The route doesn’t require much expertise, though they have it. As they paddle, the sun rises ever higher in the sky, baking the kayaks, making the cool water ever more attractive.

“Let’s stop at the bend, Jen,” Jared calls out from behind Jensen. Jensen raises his oar to indicate he has heard him, and is met by a large splash of water directly to his back and neck. Jensen turns his kayak abruptly to return fire and it met by another splash right in the face. Jared had taken that second to catch him off guard and had all but declared war by doing so. There is a merciless grin painting Jared’s face, and Jensen returns it with fire.

“You sneaky bastard,” Jensen calls to Jared, bringing his oar back as far as he can manage and flinging as much water as he can toward Jared’s face. Through the barrage of water, Jensen can hear the sound of Jared laughing and it’s so pure and real that it’s almost heartbreaking. He hasn’t heard that sound in longer than he wants to think about. Finally, after a few more minutes of fight, the men are laughing too hard to continue, and it’s a silent ceasefire. Jared points to the land by the bend with a victorious grin, indicating he had, in fact, been serious about stopping. They pull their kayaks out of the water, and Jared reclines along the sun-dappled grass beneath the tall trees that line the lake. He puts a hand over his eyes and sighs deeply, relaxing; he stretches out all of that long lean body, almost cat-like under the variegated light of the sun through the leaves.

“I’m tired, man,” Jared says. Jensen sits next to him, enjoying the warm sun trickling through the branches onto his wet skin, the freckles on his arms just barely visible under the sun.

“I know you are, Jared,” Jensen says softly, wrapping his arms around his knees. He doesn’t know what else to say. His throat is thick and his gut churns like the ocean, but it feels like he can’t give himself the voice he wants to. Instead, he lies back next to Jared and turns his head to face him. He’s met by the endless amber of Jared’s eyes. Jensen raises his hand, hesitates, and then puts his hand against Jared’s cheek.

“I’m always here, J,” his voice cracks a bit, but he leans in, tucking his chin, his lips meeting Jared’s. It’s tender, familiar. The sun is a gentle warmth around them, the world around them quiet except for the sounds of the water and the breeze. Jared leans into the kiss, clutching the nape of Jensen’s neck with a ferocity that Jensen didn’t expect. There is a near desperation in the way he returns the kiss, a fire that Jensen hasn’t felt in a while. Jared breaks the kiss and presses his forehead against Jensen’s, gripping the base of Jensen’s skull tightly.

“I’ve missed you, J,” he whispers fiercely, “I’ve missed us.” Jared kisses him again, biting his lip, carding his fingers through Jensen’s close-cropped hair. Under the dappled sunlight, Jared’s breath is hot on Jensen’s face and Jensen feels like if he tips forward he will drown in Jared’s need for him.

“I’m always here, Jared. I’ve never left you. I’ll always be here for you,” Jensen murmurs against Jared’s skin. “The girls are out till dinnertime,” Jared nods.

“Let’s go home,” Jared replies, pressing his cheek against Jensen’s, almost wanting the comfort of his skin. 

The two men maneuver their kayaks back into the lake, pushing off the bank and using every ounce of their strength to push through the water and make their way back home as swiftly as they can. There is no conversation between them as they paddle beneath the baking Texas sun, bright as an orange rind in the sky. The heat is like an animal when the sun is this high; a living thing that soaks into your bones and lives there. Jensen can feel what may become a sunburn blooming on his shoulders and the base of his neck, but he shakes off the feeling and pulls his oar through the water, pushing himself ever forward toward the dock behind Jared’s home. There are dragonflies lighting on the water in front of his kayak, iridescent and quick on top of the barely broken water.

Jared and Jensen make their way around the final bend and finally the dock is within sight. As they have paddled, Jared has stayed just slightly ahead of him and the sight of the stained wood seems to give him an extra burst of speed. Jared pulls farther ahead of Jensen, arms taut and covered in a sheen of sweat as he exerts himself. His hair is damp at the nape of his neck, a product of both water and sweat. Jensen cannot help but admire the broadness of Jared’s back and shoulders, the carved muscle there that has returned with much effort after recovering from his shoulder injury a few years ago. By just moments, Jared beats Jensen to the dock and gets out of his kayak, pulling it up onto the bank and putting his oars away. As Jensen pulls up, Jared moves to help him pull his kayak and oars on to the bank. The plastic of the kayaks is sun-baked and hot under their hands as they work together, starkly different from the water-cooled oars. 

The business of putting things away done, Jared and Jensen break for the back of Jared’s home. They are both tense with want, a want that borders desperately on need. Jared opens the back door into the kitchen and they are immediately all over each other. The air conditioner is frigid on their damp bodies, water droplets falling from their swim trunks and landing at their feet. Between ferocious kisses that are all teeth and tongue, they make quick work of each other’s clothes, gooseflesh rising on their skin in the cool room. 

“Bedroom,” Jared grunts when their lips part, and Jensen nods. Jensen follows Jared into the master bedroom, where he had found him curled up and broken earlier. He was alive now, a fire in his eyes Jensen hasn’t seen burn in months. Jared falls to his knees in front of Jensen, digging his thumbs into Jensen’s hips. Almost worshipful, he presses his face into the crease of Jensen’s hip, breathes the musk there, feels the chill from the lake water there. The motion causes Jensen’s cock to harden against his stomach and Jensen swallows hard. Jared kisses the skin to either side of Jensen’s dick, and Jensen’s knees go a little weak. But when Jared licks a stripe along Jensen’s balls, it makes Jensen actually keen. It’s been months since they’ve touched like this, too long. Jensen fists his hands in Jared’s chestnut hair, pulling it taut. Jared works his tongue over Jensen’s cock, returning easily to the rhythm he remembers, pulling out the old tricks that have always made Jensen vocal. They fit together, the two of them; they always have. 

“Fuck, Jared,” Jensen moans, “I need to feel you inside of me, _please,_ ” The last word is a prayer, rough and mendicant, poured from Jensen’s lips. Jared offers him one more twist of his tongue, and Jensen’s legs threaten to give out; he mutters Jared’s name both as a curse and as praise. Jensen has to put his hands against Jared’s shoulders to keep from going to his knees. After steadying himself, Jensen takes the three short steps to the bed, palming his erection and lying on the bed. Jared rises from his knees and turns to Jensen on the bed, his own dick hardening between his legs. The look in his eyes is ferocious, a fire burning bright white and hot. 

Jared fishes a bottle of lube from his bedside table and opens the bottle with a soft click. He slicks up two fingers and runs them along the puckered rim of Jensen’s hole. Jensen sucks in a sharp breath.

“I can’t wait to see you all open and needy for me, Jen,” Jared murmurs, voice barely more than a growl. He slides one finger inside Jensen, twists slowly, almost lazily, luxuriating in the hitches in Jensen’s breath as he does it. He adds a second, and Jensen moans, arching his back into the pressure, chin tipping up, jaw clenching, eyes squeezing shut. Gently, Jared curls both fingers, scissoring them, working Jensen open and watching him fall to pieces in the process. Finally, Jared adds a third finger and he watches Jensen ride the burn, biting his lip and breathing hard. He curls his fingers once again and sees the exact moment he hits the sensitive bundle of nerves inside Jensen. Jensen’s body goes taut, all sinew and bone.

“Fuck, Jared, inside me now,” It's a growl, a demand, not a request.

Jared runs his hand along the length of his dick, slicking it with lube. He slowly slides his cock inside Jensen, savoring the tightness as he goes. Jensen moans, writhing beneath him. 

“That’s right Jen, open up for me,” Jared murmurs as he leans over Jensen, dipping his head to nibble on Jensen’s ear. 

“Jared,” Jensen keens, so strung out that it barely resembles a word, and Jared begins to find a rhythm in his strokes: slow to start to let Jensen get accustomed to the fullness, then building, persistent. Jensen grips the base of Jared’s skull as the rhythm grows, pulling his face close and kissing him, nothing but tongue and teeth, nearing desperation with each thrust of Jared’s hips.

“You feel so good, Jen,” Jared breathes, running his hand along Jensen’s side, digging his fingers in just enough to leave marks. Jared adjusts his hips and slams into Jensen again, and Jensen’s breath hitches and his lips part. Slowly, Jared runs his hand back down Jensen’s torso to grasp his already weeping cock. 

“J, I’m already close,” Jensen groans, writhing his hips to meet Jared’s thrusts and fucking up into Jared’s hand. 

“You look so hot like this, Jen,” Jared tells him, thrusting harder into him, twisting his wrist and watching Jensen fall apart. Jared leans down and bites the skin over Jensen’s collarbone, testing the flesh there and reveling in the hiss the motion elicits. “You look so good on my cock, Jen,” Jared whispers in his ear. That’s all it takes, Jensen shouts and comes over Jared’s hand, back arched and teeth bared. Jared is just a few strokes behind, coming hard inside Jensen with a grunt, hips pressed against Jensen’s ass and fingers digging into the mattress to Jensen’s side. He pulls out of Jensen and lies next to him, his lips leaned against Jensen’s shoulder, which he kisses gently. 

“We should rinse off,” Jensen mutters, exhausted. He feels Jared nod his head against his shoulder. Jensen pulls himself from the softness of the bed and lazily makes his way to the bathroom, where he begins drawing a bath for them to share. 

Jared comes into the room behind him and wraps his arms around Jensen’s waist, placing his head in the curve between shoulder and cheek. 

“I missed this,” he says against Jensen’s skin. Jensen leans into Jared’s touch. 

“Me too,” he replies, reveling in the press of Jared’s skin against his. 

  
—

About a month later, Jared and Jensen are in Rome. JIBCon has arrived. 

Jared strolls into the meeting room where they are waiting for the time to come to go into the ballroom and do their panel. Jensen sees a looseness in his limbs, a level of relaxation that wasn’t there when they departed set at the end of filming. His jeans are low on his hips and he’s in a favorite red and black flannel. His hair is tousled, his off-season beard is coming in nicely, and there is a smile on his face. Jensen admires him as he walks in, long fingers around an Italian coffee that he will savor and describe in excruciating detail to Jensen, using as many adjectives as he can muster. He looks at home again. 

Jensen stands and makes his way over to Jared. 

“Are you ready, man?” He asks softly. Jared turns his smile to Jensen. 

“Always,” Jared responds.


End file.
